


Well, These Are My Wings

by nobetterlove



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon Divergence - Avengers: Endgame (Movie), Canon Divergence - Spider-Man: Far From Home, Fix-It, Grief/Mourning, M/M, Peter Parker Angst, Peter Parker is a Mess, Sad Peter Parker, Tony Angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-09
Updated: 2020-07-09
Packaged: 2021-03-05 02:00:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,779
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25156639
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nobetterlove/pseuds/nobetterlove
Summary: Peter Parker is devastated when Tony dies - the man he loves is gone and his next steps are nowhere in sight. What happens when things aren't what they seem and a trip to Europe brings about a freedom that Peter didn't know he needed?Or - Peter mourns Tony's death, then shit gets real.
Relationships: Peter Parker/Tony Stark
Comments: 4
Kudos: 42





	Well, These Are My Wings

**Author's Note:**

> Hi guys! 
> 
> This is my canon divergence fill for the starkerfestivals bingo! It's really sad to start with, but I promise it gets better. 
> 
> Here's hoping you guys enjoy!

In hindsight, Peter should have known their last night together was exactly that – their last night.

When Tony pulled him into bed, he wrapped his arms so tightly around Peter that it took his breath away. His fingers touched with a reverence that spoke of wanting to remember the moments exactly as they were. The look in his eye carried so much love in it that it swept Peter off his feet – but Tony seemed to always be doing that. It was too easy, to be carried away in the feelings that Tony made him feel.

Settling down together after Tony pulled several orgasms from him, Peter let his head rest on a still heaving chest. His fingers tangled in the hair surrounding the arc reactor, the bright blue glow of it something Peter came to really appreciate over the last couple of years of being together. The small sigh of contentment he heard above him had Peter shifting, his head tilting up to give Tony his attention. “You’re amazing,” Peter whispered.

Tony lifted his hand and touched his face lightly, the tips of his fingers running over Peter’s exertion flushed cheek bones. The rich bourbon of his eyes was starting to come back now that arousal wasn’t the prominent emotion fueling the man; his gaze was soft and filled with what Peter knew to be Tony’s form of affection. In all of their time together, he never got used to it – the way Tony did most of his talking through his eyes.

“I know,” Tony mumbled back, his lips pressing against Peter’s forehead. “I love you. The last couple of years have been some of the best I’ve gotten to live. Just – so you know.” He stuffed his nose into Peter’s wet curls and took a long breath – the exhale of it shifted his hair, the move making him shiver.

Peter shifted a bit, his chest laying on top of Tony’s. He could feel the hum of energy Tony always carried around – the buzz of it a comfort he now knew he didn’t want to live without. Letting the finger of his right hand run through Tony’s hair, Peter soaked up the moment; Tony wasn’t open about his feelings often, even with Peter, even after countless times of displaying them in all other ways.

Their lips found each other in a kiss before Peter spoke again, a soft smile slipping across his lips. “I love you, too. And I love when you say stuff like that. You fucking sap,” Peter replied, his the fingers in Tony’s hair clenching just tight enough to give the strands a swift tug. “It’s the same for me, Tony. Getting through this without you would have been hell.”

Snuggling back down, Peter found himself starting to drift off, a weirdly satisfied feeling lulling him into some false sense of comfort. They planned to go through with the stone collection the next day – what was coming their way couldn’t have been predicted or even stopped. Yet, when he fell asleep that night, Peter felt the best he ever had; Tony’s hands running up and down his arm and his warmth pressed up against him kept him comforted throughout the rest of the night.

It should’ve been a sign, he realized later – how good the night before actually was. Tony’s body hitting the ground didn’t seem like a possibility and yet, he was launching himself through the air to get to his boyfriend before he fell over completely. Peter gripped his arms and followed him down to the ground, his knees falling on either side of Tony’s thighs.

“Tony, we did it, baby. We did it,” Peter babbled, his hands moving up and down Tony’s arms in an attempt to keep his beautiful eyes open, to see the light there that brought him so much happiness. Watching Tony try to smile, then slowly shut his eyes felt like a straight stab to the gut – a cry left his lips before he could stop it. “Tony, Tony – Tony!”

Peter would’ve stayed crouched over Tony uselessly shaking him if it weren’t for Stephen Strange grabbing him and bodily removing him from his position over the unmoving body. “Stop, kid. You’re killing us,” Stephen said, the tears in his voice evident and just enough to pull Peter out of his grief.

They shared a look, Peter trying his best to suck up all the moisture that was pouring from his face – tears were running down his cheeks on their own accord. “Sorry,” Peter whispered – the tone of his voice broken, even to his own ears. He willed himself not to turn around; if he did, he’d be right back to where he was before, trying to uselessly put life back – desperately hoping to change the reality of the situation.

For a singular moment, Peter wandered what getting his hands on any of the stones that might change fate would be like – to bring back Tony and see what kind of shift it created in the timeline – in the universe. Then, rationality came back to him and he leaned into the hold Stephen still had around him. One by one, the rest of the Avenger’s passed by him with some sort of touch or hug on their way to Tony.

It became too much when Steve put a hand behind his head and pulled him into a tight hug. “So sorry, Pete,” Cap mumbled, his face streaked with dirt and tears, the shield still strapped to his hand in a desperate attempt to keep the broken bone stable. Peter let himself lean into the embrace, then pulled back with a nod – his heart hurt too much, he needed to get the fuck out of there.

Strange must’ve understood the look in his eyes – he created a portal and allowed Peter to walk through it; the gut-wrenching feeling of stepping into the lab he knew like the back of his hand bringing him to his knees when the yellow energy finally floated away. Knowing he didn’t have much time to himself, Peter huddled under Tony’s desk and took long deep breaths, his desperate attempt to pull in the man’s smell not enough to stop the tears from flowing down his cheeks.

By the time the rest of the crew started to trickle back to the compound, Peter melted down twice and let himself howl with pain each time.

He cried profusely under Tony’s desk and then calmed down enough to get to their shared bedroom – the tears only staying at bay just long enough for him to step out of the suit and the ruined clothes beneath it. Settling into Tony’s side of the bed, Peter wrapped the sheets around himself and let his emotions roll over him again. The usual catharsis that crying gave him just made the pain worse, so he simply laid there, his mind floating away for a little while

A knock on the door pulled him away from the misery, Peter rolled out of the sheets surrounding him and slipped into some of the clothes he had lying on the floor. Wanda was there, staring at him with rich tears in her eyes. “Happy’s here, taking care of everything. I’m – so sorry, Peter.” She pulled him into a hug before letting Peter see the tears that weren’t going to do anything but fall. Wanda kept him wrapped up tight, her friend’s chest heaving against her.

The next few days felt like floating – between helping Happy put things together and dealing with everyone who wanted to tell them how sorry they were, Peter didn’t remember much. It was too hard stay focused on any one task with so much going on, so he let the busyness take him over. Maybe, if he didn’t think too much about it, the truth of the matter didn’t have to really be a thing. Denial was the first step of the grieving process and he planned to stay within it for as long as he could.

What they planned for Tony’s funeral was simple – the first arc reactor that sat prominently on display in their room at the compound lay in a tangle of dogwood branches. It seemed fitting that Happy implored him to cut the power and lay it black amongst the arrangement. Selfishly, Peter was grateful that Happy kept the headstone he had put up on the downlow – he wasn’t ready to share his lover with anyone else, yet.

Watching the last remnants of Tony float away finally pulled the veil of denial away from his eyes. It all happened so fast, he hadn’t even been able to see Tony’s body – it was gutting to see something so important to him meandering away, further and further as the seconds passed. Peter stood firmly at the edge of the lake until he couldn’t see the floating bob anymore – Happy was the only one that remained, the man giving him silent support.

He felt a warm arm wrap around his shoulders, the person he’d come to rely on in the last couple of weeks pulling him in close. “He was proud of you, Peter. And he loved you,” Happy said softly, his fingers digging into Peter’s shoulder lightly. “Go for a visit later. It’ll make you feel better.”

Peter leaned into the warmth of Happy’s side and nodded his head – what he said were all things that he already knew; Tony went out of his way to make him feel so cherished and understood. Affirmation was nice, though – there was no denying that. His arm wrapped around the wide waist and let Happy lead him into the house where they put together a small spread for the big group of people that came to remember the greatest man on Earth.

It took everything in him to stick around and hear story after story of Tony and the many things the man did throughout the years. He missed him so desperately that even the tales of the earlier days when Tony lived recklessly didn’t get him excited like they usually did; each one simply made him miss the man more. The hearty chuckle of the people around him was the only thing that kept him in it – despite the heartache, he knew that Tony was loved and cherished for the many amazing things about him.

Managing to sneak away, Peter wrapped his web shooters around his wrists and took off – he knew that Happy would deal with the rest of the group for the remainder of the night. For the first time all day, Peter felt a sense of freedom he only got while being in the air – or being with Tony, but that was few and far between now. He let himself swing and rest for a while, eager to be anywhere expectations and pitying faces weren’t.

By the time Peter landed in the private graveyard Happy procured for Tony’s resting place, Peter’s hair was wind blow and his heart felt the slightest bit lighter. Just being in a place that he knew Tony was made him feel better. Sitting down right in front of the headstone – Anthony Edward Stark, World’s Greatest Hero – Peter let his fingers dig into the grass, nails pressing into the dirt in hopes of getting some into the nail beds. His eyes were burning staring at the shiny piece of black marble that didn’t do the man whose name was etched on it justice – nothing ever would.

“Hey Tones – “ Peter started, his inability to keep the words in saving him from the embarrassing feeling of talking to someone that wasn’t there. “Every person you ever fought with showed up today – and I mean everyone. You’re so loved, baby. It’s crazy to think about all of the things you did in life, all the people that you saved. I’m proud – to have known you and have fought by your side. I just wish – I wish that it didn’t have to end this way. With you gone when the world is finally ready to be lived in.”

A dirty finger wiped at the streaming tears on his cheeks, a smudge of the soil resting on his skin. It didn’t register, nothing did – nothing other than the desperate need to have Tony’s arms around him. “I miss you, Tony. It’s ridiculous, the things that make me crave you. The towel warmer in the bathroom, your coffee mug that’s still sitting on your bedside table – all of it’s like this subtle reminder of the pieces I loved so much about your neurotic personality.” By that point, his words were muddled with tears, each one of them getting harder for even him to decipher.

Peter forced himself to take a few deep breaths – Tony wouldn’t want him to fall apart. If he was there, his fingers would be running through the length of his hair, pulling at the ends the way Peter liked. The thoughts were calming and allowed him to regain a bit of control. “I don’t really know what I’m going to do without you. Your smell is still lingering in our bed, but one day it isn’t going to be there, and I can’t imagine what that’s going to be like.”

Scooting a little closer, Peter reached out and let his fingers trace the letters on the headstone, each one of them new, the etching still smooth and perfect. That same hand came up and pressed against his eyes in a feeble shot at keeping the never-ending river of tears from continuing their flow. Not able to talk anymore, Peter dropped down until he could press his cheek against the smooth stone, his arms wrapping around the width of it. Letting his forehead rest there, Peter melted into his grief.

\----

For the first few weeks after Tony’s memorial, Peter went out of his way to try and actually be okay – especially in front of the rest of the crew. He felt all of their eyes on him constantly, like they were waiting for him to break apart. And he wanted to – more than anything, he wanted to sit on his ass and cry his eyes out. Every second felt like pain without Tony there.

Because, now that he was gone, Peter noticed just how much Tony contributed to his daily life and general existence. He found himself turning to tell Tony something without thinking, or looking for him in the room when first walking in. The disappointment of remembering that he would never respond or be there waiting with a smile on his face shook him to the core every time. And despite knowing that it would hurt, Peter did it anyway – he couldn’t help it, even. For so many years, Tony played a big part of every aspect of his life.

So, he plastered on a smile and let people think he was coping. While the wandering eyes were on him during trainings and patrols, Peter mastered the art of pretending. When Wanda came knocking on the door to his room every evening for a couple of hours of tv, Peter laughed and played along with the unique rhythm they built between them. She watched him the closest and in his weakest moments, Peter thought about breaking down in her company. Yet, he didn’t – it seemed like too much to dump upon another person. Once the floodgates opened, there wouldn’t be any shutting them.

No one deserved to deal with that type of baggage.

Instead, Peter waited until his nightly pilgrimage to Tony’s headstone. For the couple of hours he spent sitting on his knees in front of the slowly aging last reminder of the man he loved, Peter actually felt. He told Tony all about his day, about how he hated himself for keeping it all inside and how much he equally hated the people around him for constantly making him feel like he needed to. Peter felt normal in the small chunk of time, despite the fact that he was talking to someone that wasn’t even there.

And that worked for a while – pretending and going through the daily shit like nothing really changed. So much of his entire existence changed, though; Peter found evidence of that with every single second he lived without Tony’s presence. The final realization of that hit about 3 months into the whole mourning process when the bed finally stopped smelling like Tony’s cologne.

Steve found him in hysterics over the sheets on the bed, Peter’s eyes completely blow out from all of the feelings and emotions he kept within himself. He was rocking back and forth, Tony’s pillow in his hand – “it doesn’t smell like him anymore” said on repeat. In that moment, Peter Parker, the strong, intelligent, level-headed young man didn’t exist. All that remained was the desperate feeling of not knowing how life could possibly continue without the comfort of spice and engine oil.

From what he was told, it took several hours to pull him out of the grief fueled episode. It was like blinking awake when he finally came to – his eyes felt puffy and raw, but the memory of anything other than the smell-less pillow did not exist. Everyone was crowded around him, even Clint who went back to stay with his family weeks ago. Like usual, all eyes were on him – though this time, he knew they saw right through him.

In a lot of ways, completely falling apart in front of the rest of the Avenger’s was exactly what needed to happen. Peter came to the realization that his coping strategy was not working. Steve, in the panic that was later described to him by MJ, called his friends and brought them over to the tower. MJ never approved of his relationship with Tony, but she knew how much the man meant to him. Armed with Legos and dry humor, she and Ned spent the next two days nursing Peter back to some semblance of health.

It took a while to move passed everything with some of the others. Steve seemed to be the most traumatized and treated him like something that could easily break. When he was sat out of his 3rd patrol, Peter let the emotion explode from him – his fingers tingling as he spoke. “I’m getting pretty tired of you treating me like I can’t handle this!” Peter exclaimed, his mask in hand. Truthfully, he felt better – the best he could, given the situation.

“Are you sure you can? The image of you so out of your mind with sadness is stuck in my head, Pete – I’m going to need a minute to make sure I’m not putting you and the rest of us in jeopardy.” Steve didn’t even think before he replied, his voice hardening with every word.

The realization that Peter couldn’t deny anything that came out of Steve’s mouth had him tossing his hands in the air, the slightest look of surrender on his face. He turned quickly, walking from the big debriefing room feeling more defeated than ever before. Letting out a quick breath, Peter decided to stay in the suit and head out to see Tony.

Swinging across the city gave him a sort of peace – if he could spend all of his time in the air, moving from one place to another across the city, he would. Especially now – when nothing down where his feet touched made any sort of sense. Not being Spider-Man, not being Peter Parker – nothing.

Peter landed in the well-kept garden that surrounded the headstone – a gratefulness for Happy settled in his gut every time he looked around to see the beauty that continued to surround Tony’s resting place. His fingers ran over the small set of lilies that were in bloom; they were his favorite, their elegant beauty noticeable in all stages of the flower’s opening process. A small smile slipped across his lips as he hit his knees, his spot in the grass apparent after so much time spent there.

“Today has been a rough one, Tony,” Peter started, his hand digging into the grass below him. “Cap has no faith in me now and he’s not far off. I have no faith in me. I just – I can’t get you out of my head. If I blink for too long, I start to think that I won’t remember what you look like, or how your voice sounds.” He sucked in a breath and looked away for a second, his eyes watering. He didn’t like to cry in front of Tony – his lover still wouldn’t want that.

“I’ve started going through your things. Just to see if I could learn something new about you. Something that, in the endless conversations we had together, you didn’t tell me. I get stuck, though – every time I walk into your closet, it’s like you’re there. Everything smells like you and beside the entirety of you, the comfort of that spicy scent is something I miss so fucking much.”

The urge to pull the grass from the ground came, as it always did, the further into his emotions he got. “Sometimes – I sleep with your old shirts and walk through the house in your shoes. I always think, maybe I’ll get that closeness back. It works sometimes. That stupid shirt with the cat on it always makes me smile, at least.”

All of the sudden, Peter heard a shuffle over by the other side of the fence. He looked up and spent a few minutes tuning into the sounds around him, though – there seemed to be nothing there. Sucking in a couple of deep breaths, Peter forced himself to focus. His grief was tangible, it could manifest in lots of different ways, including paranoia.

Shifting a little, Peter scooted closer to the headstone, his back resting against it. “I think I need to take some time away from everybody. Ned and MJ are heading to Europe for a couple of weeks and I think I’m going to go. It’s running away, I know that. I can just picture you looking at me with that quirk in your eyebrow, but it’s what needs to happen. I can’t fight crime if I can’t even trust myself.”

Much like Cap’s words from earlier, Peter knew the truth in what he just said. In a lot of ways, he didn’t even want to spend any more time fighting crime after all the traumatic bull shit he went through over the last few years. It was a selfless thing, and, in that moment, he didn’t feel selfless at all – Peter was so caught up in everything he didn’t want to feel, and that seemed like the most selfish thing he could possibly do.

Peter let himself soak up the little bit of comfort being there with Tony gave him for a few more minutes – he tried not to spend too much time there these days; it was all a part of the balance thing everyone was trying to get him to see. When he did stand up, Peter spent another few minutes with his hand resting against the smoothness of the headstone before turning to walk away.

Yet, he didn’t get more than a few steps before a familiar scent hit his nostrils. He would recognize Tony’s spicy cologne anywhere. On alert now, Peter pulled on his mask and took another couple of steps closer to the one door that acted as in and out of the little resting place. Thinking back to the shuffle he heard earlier, Peter tapped into KAREN. “Hey KAREN, can you set web-shooters to the original setting. I don’t know what I’m dealing with here,” he said, flexing his neck back and forth in preparation of the inevitable attack that was coming his way.

He wasn’t prepared for what he was met with, however. Hearing another shuffle, Peter shot a web towards the door and whipped it open, the entire thing coming off its hinges with the force. A startled noise had him taking a couple of long strides to pass through the opening he created in hopes of catching whoever made the noise. Instead of the alien hoping to seek revenge like he thought it might be, Peter took in the graying chestnut hair and goatee he spent hours getting familiar with.

Quickly afraid for his sanity, Peter shot a web at the manifestation of the man he loved, his eyes under the mask widening when it stuck – he assumed It would keep running until gravity pulled the blast down. Sucking in a breath, Peter tore off his mask in a desperate attempt to make sure he was actually seeing what was in front of him. With the leverage he still had from the web in his free hand, Peter tugged until the man he’d been mourning over was within inches of him.

What in the actual fuck? Panicking, Peter pulled him in tightly against his chest – if he could feel him, maybe he actually was real. Touching the thickness of his shoulders and feeling the steady thrum of the blood beneath his veins, Peter pulled back, tears running from his eyes – face filled with apprehension.

“Tony?”

“How the fuck is this real?” Peter asked after a moment. When questioned, Tony nodded at him, the older man’s fingers reaching out to press against the skin of Peter’s cheeks. He hadn’t spoken yet, but a part of Peter was sure that was because he finally went crazy and this was how he pictured Tony – how his fucked-up brain decided to torture him some more. “I’ve finally gone crazy, haven’t I?” Saying the words out loud made them seem even more real. He felt like he was slowly slipping towards madness, anyway.

“Pete, no – you aren’t going crazy. I’m really here. It’s me,” Tony replied, his hands now fully ensconced in the depths of Peter’s hair. It was much longer than the last time his lover saw it – he didn’t have it in him to even think about doing anything with it, including getting it cut. He could tell that Tony liked it; his fingers were tight in the way they clenched at the longer locks.

“But you – you died. I watched you. I saw the light go out of your eyes. H-how?” He was trembling at that point, his entire system completely overrun by adrenaline and confusion – each second that passed felt even more like a dream.

Tony used the grip in his hair to get Peter to look at him, the move one that felt so fucking familiar – if it was a hallucination, his brain reproduced the older man almost perfectly. Keeping his eyes closed until prompted to open them, Peter did his best to soak up the touch, even if it wasn’t real – he wasn’t about to pass up something that felt so right.

“Look at me, Pete,” Tony practically commanded, his voice rich and deep, the tone very much familiar, too. “There’s something a lot bigger than Thanos going on. I needed everyone to believe that I was dead – that the reins to Stark Industries were sitting in the hands of someone who didn’t have a legitimate claim to them.” Tony looked at him seriously, that gleam in his eyes one Peter remembered seeing time and time again throughout their adventures together. “I’m here, Pete. I promise you.”

Not needing anything else but that, Peter tucked into Tony’s warmth. His face buried into the side of Tony’s neck – Peter took a long draw and let the unique comfort of Tony settle into his chest. Tears started to fall before he knew what was happening, he could feel Tony’s hands running up and down his back, but it all seemed so surreal – too much to handle after everything he dealt with since that day on the battlefield.

So, he cried and let himself be held by the man he genuinely felt like he would never see again – that he could have sworn he lost forever.

\----

Getting from Tony’s headstone to the comfort of a deserted Stark Tower didn’t even register. Peter felt himself get stuffed into a car and immediately pulled back against Tony’s chest – the latter the only thing he was interested in at the time being. It took a bit of prying to get him out of the car and into the service elevator, but Peter eventually got his legs to work and followed behind Tony silently.

He figured speaking or doing anything other than what he was told would break the spell and send him back to the cold sheets of his bed in the complex – Peter couldn’t handle that, so he followed along, his lips pressed tightly together. They rode the elevator all the way up to the penthouse and walked out into the eerily empty room. The last time he stood in this foyer, a grand piano was tucked up against the opposite wall and the room was cast in light that made everything shine.

The shade came away from his face when they walked a little further into the apartment to find Happy standing there, his hands in his pocket and a nervous expression on his face. In an instant, Peter felt like flinging himself across the room and taking Happy to the ground. Through all the struggling and sadness, Happy knew about the fact that Tony was alive? How did he let Peter suffer after all the times he told Happy about the depth of pain that he felt?

It took everything in him to stay where he was, all the way across the room from the person he quickly came to rely on the way a son would a father. A flash of hurt rushed through him – his entire life for the last couple of months was a complete lie; one that Happy obviously knew about.

“You knew? Happy, how could you? I told you I felt like dying, like the pain was slowly taking me under. Didn’t it kill you? Keeping this from me when you knew?” Peter asked the questions, despite knowing the answers. If Happy kept shit quiet, it came as a direct order from Tony himself – there had to be a reason for it all. Even knowing that, Peter felt like his guts were being ripped out of his body – betrayal was still the name of the game, in the end.

Happy didn’t bat an eye – the man was damn good at his job and this very instance showed it. “I had orders. I followed them. It wasn’t anything personal, kid. I’m sorry I hurt you.” Happy removed his hands from his pockets and reached out as if he were going to close the distance between them; but he didn’t. He crossed his arms across his chest, instead – his defensive stance obvious now that Peter knew the man a little better.

“It needed to be done, Pete. I told him to do it. After using the stones to finish off Thanos, I knew I’d be in bad shape – it was important that only a couple of people knew what was going on. Happy came through and collected my body – took me to where Stephen Strange set up a temporary hospital and nursed me back to health. They did a number on me,” Tony muttered, his hand running up the scar tissue Peter could now see on the side of Tony’s face.

“After Titan, Stephen came to me with the solution to our problem. When he first told me about it, I had no idea who or what he was talking about. And then he mentioned the name Quentin Beck, and it all seemed to fit. Though he was a failed special effects guy in Hollywood, he’s taken his talents more broadscale. Like working with Thanos to orchestrate a very specific way to take out some of the world’s population. Ruling over the world is the best way for its people to see him,” Tony finished, his eyes a little wild.

Peter took a few seconds to process the words coming from Tony’s mouth – it wouldn’t be all that far-fetched, someone else contributing to Thanos’s plan. At the same time, he couldn’t ever remember hearing the name Quentin Beck mentioned in any of the briefings over the past couple of months.

As if reading his mind, Tony answered his question. “You would have been briefed about a Mysterio. He has slowly been causing small scale havoc across the pond. Your trip to Europe with Ned and MJ is key to this entire plan, Pete. EDITH, the glasses I left you – they came to you for a reason.” Taking the couple steps between them, Tony stopped right before they were touching. Peter could barely feel the rise and fall of his chest. “I need you, Pete. We can finally save the world.”

For the next couple of hours, Peter listened to Tony talk about Quentin Beck and the intricate plan that Strange saw – how he needed to trick Peter into giving him EDITH to have access to all of the technology engaged by all of the Stark systems. The further the story unfolded, he more Peter could see the actuality of it – a lot of the pieces seemed to fit the exact details of the trip clearly planned by an entity outside of Peter himself.

After it all, Peter turned to Tony, a curious look on his face. “Why now? Why did you decide to reveal yourself now? When there’s still so much that needs to be done?” Peter couldn’t help the little bit of hurt that couldn’t be disguised in his voice. Despite his happiness to see Tony, his very soul ached. Both from the joy of being complete again and the sadness that was still consuming him. Losing Tony was the worst thing to happen to him – that pain was 100% real, and insanely hard to ditch.

“I couldn’t stand to see you like this anymore, Pete. I wanted to let you in on everything, but Strange said you mourning me was necessary – the best way to sell my death as a reality.” He tucked his chin against his chest, the dark brown of his eyes stormy and unreadable. “I hacked into FRIDAY’s footage from where I’ve been staying and it’s been grueling, to say the least.”

Peter perked up at that, a laugh falling from his lips. “Grueling for you? Imagine living with the fact that the man you love is dead. You’ve been watching me shout for you on a nightly basis. That’s – it’s gross, Tony. Morbid. I’m so fucking mad at you,” Peter hissed at him, his eyes dripping with tears. “And I’m really fucking happy you’re here. I can’t decide what is going to win out right now.”

Tony pulled him into his arms then, their chests bumping. It didn’t matter that Happy was standing less than 20 feet away, Peter tilted his head and let his lips press against Tony’s – the first caress of his soft skin like a dream he’d been dreaming for the past few weeks. Whatever was happening, Peter could not deny that it felt good to be in Tony’s arms again. Even if, in the end, this all turned out to be total bull shit – it felt so goddamn good.

And it didn’t stop feeling good, not until the obnoxious clearing of a throat tore them apart – Happy was trying not to look at them, his cheeks a little flushed. “The rest of that can probably wait. We’ve got some plans to make.”

Unable to go back to the compound with him, Peter was forced to say goodbye to Tony until he got to his hotel in Europe in a few days. The only means of communication Tony could promise him was a few text messages through the StarkPhone he slipped into Peter’s hand before he forced himself to swing away. Halfway through his adventure across the city, Peter felt the phone buzz against his hip where he tucked it into his suit. A soft smile slipped across his lips and let the small bit of happiness get him back quicker than usual.

The place was still empty when he walked in – a small miracle after the last few hours of going from one extreme of emotion to the other. It still felt a little surreal, the fact that he held Tony in his arms and felt the thrumming life against his chest and under his very own fingertips. When he got to his room and started to get ready for bed, Peter felt a little apprehensive about going to sleep. What if it really was a dream and he woke up to a Tony-less world again?

His body didn’t let him decide, in the end. The pull of sleep was too great for his already overextended muscles and tissues. His head hit the pillow and the rest of the night was history. Dreams that usually haunted him stayed away – for the first time in a while, Peter got to sleep through the entirety of the night.

Upon waking up the next morning, Peter immediately rummaged for the phone he put under his pillow the night before. His fingers wrapped around it, the smoothness of the device reassuring against his skin. Letting out a relieved breath, Peter pulled it to his chest. At least he hadn’t dreamed it all up. A fact that made itself apparent when the phone vibrated in his grip. No matter what happened, the phone in his hand was a lifeline – a small piece of reassurance that Tony was alive.

\----

The days leading up to his trip were filled with avoidance of the others around the compound, making plans with Tony on the phone he sneakily used whenever he could, and coordinating with Ned and MJ. May volunteered to drop them off at the airport, so Happy was driving him into Queens to make sure she didn’t have to go out of her way.

It was the first time the two of them were alone since Tony revealed himself – Peter could literally cut the tension with a knife. A part of him wanted Happy to suffer the way he was. Peter saw the way his eyes flashed to him every so often, the looks he sent him more than a little obvious. Despite that, the last couple of days of going over plan after plan made him realize just how important Tony staying hidden actually was. Quentin Beck posed a threat to Tony directly and having the upper hand in a situation like that was the only advantage.

Before he knew it, Peter was hugging May goodbye and getting on a plane with his two best friends, both of which were very excited to be given practical freedom in a couple different cities in England and France. It was the first big adventure for the two of them, so Peter couldn’t blame them. He even wanted to join them in excitement, but he couldn’t – not when an incredible weight sat on his shoulders. Getting Tony back for good was all he wanted; Peter would do anything to make sure that happened.

Just like Tony said, Peter was given a private show of Mysterio’s work. Without Tony’s influence, Peter would have totally fallen for the illusion created. Instead, he walked into the interaction with eyes wide open – the offer of himself as an assistant was a good way to keep track of his whereabouts. It gave him incredible anxiety to be anywhere near the person responsible for so much death and destruction – but sometimes saving the world and the person he loved called for stomaching his distaste and getting the job done as efficiently as he could.

Which, the longer he spent in London, seemed to be getting harder to do by the second. Since he signed up for the trip through the school, it was imperative that he made an appearance at all the planned activities. On top of that, he was working hard to keep his secret identity exactly that – secret. Other than Ned and MJ, who knew because it became mandatory to tell them, no one else at school had an inkling about his escapades as Spider-Man – and he wanted to keep it that way.

The other thing holding him back was Tony himself. For whatever reason, the man still didn’t want to tell him the entirety of the plan – he told him little bits of information that put him exactly where he needed to be, but never why he was there or how things were contributing to Beck’s ultimate defeat. Since the man couldn’t go out and about himself, he sent Peter, with the help of EDITH, around the city to scope things out and keep track of Beck’s movements outside of the meetings they were having.

It felt a little infuriating, being kept in the dark – Peter understood that Tony had a reason for it, but it didn’t make the job any easier. Every time he met with Beck, he seemed to talk about Tony like he knew him – like maybe they had an exchange in the past, or something. It was never anything good coming out of his mouth, either. In those moments, Peter found it hard to not immediately jump in and defend Tony. There were a lot of things he didn’t know about Tony Stark, many of them things he didn’t even want to.

Between hunting down a villain pretending to be a superhero, keeping up with his friends and those expectations, and spending as much time as he could with Tony – Peter felt a little run down. At the end of the very first week there, Peter got a message on the phone he used to communicate with Tony, telling him to take the elevator to the 20th floor and meet Happy at the end of the hall – standard operating procedure for them since getting to the hotel.

He shot Happy a smile when he met him at the door, the man returning the look with a little more gusto than usual. When they got to the door, Happy opened it without going through like he usually did. “I’m grabbing dinner. He’s in there waiting for you,” Happy told him, the stone-cold look on his face dropping a little, an almost grin slipping across his lips. “I’ll be gone a couple of hours.”

Taking that for what it was, Peter stepped into the room, a roll of apprehension in his gut. Throughout all the planning and talking about next steps, Peter and Tony didn’t spend much time doing anything else. It felt nice to finally be able to touch Tony whenever he wanted again, there was no denying that. The kisses they shared felt like a luxury – each press of Tony’s lips against his own one more than he ever thought he would ever get again. The thought of being physical made it feel kind of like coming together for the first time all over again.

Tony met him in the front room of the suite he was sharing with Happy, the tv on and tuned into a soccer match – the sport one of the only things on throughout the day. The volume wasn’t on, though; the game a totally different experience without the excitement of the announcers as the ant-sized players passed the ball from one side of the field to another. Peter felt his eyes moving across the screen, the view a willing distraction.

Hands were on his cheeks before he knew it, Tony’s grip turning his head until their eyes were meeting – their gaze locking for what felt like a millennium. “No pressure from me today, Pete. I just wanted to see you,” Tony whispered, his lips barely running across Peter’s. “You look good.”

Peter closed his eyes, a laugh bubbling up from his gut and out into the air as a shaky huff of air. Leaning forward, he searched around until he felt the cupid bow of Tony’s lip, his head tilting naturally to create a good angle and press in for an actual kiss. Tony’s hands stayed right where they were on his face, the man’s long fingers moving restlessly along the soft skin of Peter’s cheeks.

His own arms wrapped tightly around Tony’s waist and narrowed the space between them down to nothing. Thrusting his hips forward, Peter moaned at the feeling of an answering erection against his own. Though it hadn’t been a thought in his head up until that very moment, Peter was suddenly desperate to feel the press of his skin against Tony’s – the bareness of physical connection between them.

There was no hesitation in the way he used his superior strength to grip under Tony’s thighs and heft him up until the older man caught his drift and wrapped long legs around Peter’s waist. He was familiar enough with the room to know that 15 paces and a slight right turn would get him straight through the door of the master bedroom in the suite. Peter didn’t stop until he was between Tony’s splayed thighs, the two of them tangled together in the middle of the large mattress.

Lust consumed him – every inch of his body completely overtaken by the idea of finally getting the ultimate connection with Tony back. It wasn’t often that he felt like holding Tony down and fucking him in a way that made sure he knew exactly who he belonged to – but now was one of those times where he felt unexplainably desperate for it.

Impatient hands tore at the clothes on Tony’s body – the fabric of the soft shirt tearing under Peter’s careless grip. A sound of triumph left his mouth when the man’s chest was finally on display – the glow of the arc reactor a subtle reminder of the fact that Tony was alive – that in a few short minutes, Peter would be able to feel that life from the inside out. Shaking his head of the thought, Peter made quick work of his own clothes, the call of flesh on flesh too great to ignore any longer.

Finally disrobed and completely ready for whatever was next, Peter settled himself on the bed with his head between Tony’s legs, his hand wrapped around the rock-hard length there. Ducking his head, Peter poked his tongue out, the tip of it dragging down the seam of Tony’s balls, his hand moving rhythmically in contrast. His own hips were pressing and dragging against the high thread count sheets – a sticky glob of precum apparent in the wetness he kept pressing into.

Teasing both Tony and himself, Peter kept up the steady pumping of his hand while his tongue trailed a little further down, across Tony’s taint first, then stopping at the junction of pert ass cheeks that Peter knew fit so perfectly in his hands. Brushing his nose across Tony’s crack, Peter took a deep breath, his fingers squeezing the length in his hands once more before letting go completely. With both hands now free, Peter easily used them to part Tony’s cheeks, the access to the honey spot like finally getting to the front of the line of Space Mountain – exciting and adrenaline filled; anticipation increasing with every second.

His tongue went to work, first circling around Tony’s rim to pull that initial flutter from the muscle, then pressing in with a little more force the more Peter could feel him relax. Little by little, Peter gained access to the tight channel he couldn’t wait to be wrapped in, almost half of his tongue sunk into Tony’s hole by the time fingers were pulling his long curls. “It’s been so long, Pete. I need you,” Tony said the words clearly, his tone lust addled, but the intention of them incredibly clear.

Peter slipped 2 of his own fingers into his mouth, his salivary glands more than happy to produce spit galore in his highly aroused state. He let them pass back and forth between his lips before pulling them out, the sopping digits pressing at the tight ring of Tony’s hole. Without any preamble, Peter pressed forward and breached the muscle with both fingers.

Both fingers were readily welcomed by the tight heat, the length of them being sucked in until the tips were pressing against the spongy organ that brought a long moan from the depth of Tony’s chest. Pulling out slightly, Peter scissored his fingers, dragging them backward until the middle knuckle of both digits were caught on the rim, giving it a good stretch. He did that a few more times before deeming the squirming man more than ready.

Unable to force himself out of bed in the hunt for lube, Peter collected the moisture in his mouth and spat into his hand, the warmth of his spit making his cock leap into the tight circle of his hand. “I love you, Tony. I can’t wait to feel you like this again. Thought I never would,” Peter babbled, his brain completely taken over by the hazy lust that ripped through him. The filter on his immediate thoughts was no longer in place.

With a tight grip at the base of his dick, Peter lined himself up and pressed forward until his hand was the only thing between his hips and Tony’s ass. Giving himself a hard clench for a moment to get things under control, Peter pulled his hand away and bottomed out – his eyes shutting against the pleasure. Tony wrapped his legs high on Peter’s chest, the man using the momentum the move gave him to pull Peter down. He settled on his forearms and rolled his hips.

“You feel amazing,” Peter managed to get out around a gasp, his breath hitching slightly. “I forgot how much like home this is – the connection between my body and yours. I can feel your heartbeat everywhere. It’s all I want, Tony. You alive. You here with me.” In his senseless confessing, Peter found himself thrusting back and forth, his hips on the same path of desperation the rest of him was.

“I’m here, Pete. I’m not going anywhere. I’m here,” Tony mumbled, his arms and hole wrapping Peter up, the embrace tugging him under the imaginary barrier he put up between them since the day Tony came back in the picture. In a world where good things didn’t last, Peter didn’t want to put his guard down and let himself fully believe that he got this chance with Tony. The cruelest joke would be the tug of this happiness away once again.

Yet, Tony in his arms the way he was felt too real – the shudder and clench of Tony’s muscles where they were pressed against him tangible; more real than anything Quentin showed him over the past few days, more real than the days without him certainly were.

The length of time between their last encounter and all of the apprehension brought Peter to the edge long before he wanted. He could tell that Tony was right there with him, however – the fluttering clench and increasingly loud moans falling from kiss swollen lips were telling enough. Dropping down until he could get his arms under Tony’s shoulder, Peter broke the space between them into nothing – every drag of his hips forward and back rubbed against the leaky length butted against his stomach. Tony’s precum on his flush skin was the final straw.

“Oh god, Tony – “ Peter cried out, his face burying into Tony’s neck, teeth digging into the skin there, cock throbbing with desperate pulses of cum.

Tony’s legs tightening around him pulled him even closer, his release splashing between them a second later. The long drawn out ‘fuck’ Peter heard through the haze dragged another throb from his own cock, a groan leaving his lips as oversensitivity sunk in – the delightful feeling of every touch against his body being too much edging its way in.

Muscled arms wrapped around him tightly, Tony obviously trying to keep him there. As if he had the actual energy to move, anyway. Peter kept his face tucked into Tony’s sweaty skin, no part of him ready to look up and see the deep look of love he knew would be there. He was barely keeping himself together in that moment, already – one look at those glassy eyes and all the control he wanted to say he had would be completely out the window.

Reading the room, Tony kept Peter tucked against him, both men trying their best to catch their breath through the rush of emotions that something as passionate as the way they just came together could bring to the forefront. Without any control over them, Peter felt tears starting to stream from his eyes – he should’ve been embarrassed, crying while still balls deep in the man he just shared his body with.

Peter missed the way Tony held him so tenderly and the soft hitch in his chest when Peter’s lack of control brought it out of him, too. Turning his head, Tony pressed his lips to the bits of Peter’s skin he could reach – the touch grounding just as much as it was comforting. It took him a while to get the tears to stop, the hypnotic way Tony was shushing him the only thing he could focus on.

The feeling of slipping out of Tony had Peter looking up, his red-rimmed eyes locking onto murky brown ones. Soft palms cupped his cheeks – the most genuine grin slipping across Tony’s cheeks as they looked at each other. “I love you,” Tony muttered, thumbs running across the edge of Peter’s lips in the softest ghost of a touch.

\----

Tony leaving out a bunch of details about the entire thing with Beck made a lot of sense – Quentin started to talk about the small stint he had at Stark Industries, how he was never seen the way he truly should be – how, after all of the things Tony did to save the world, that one interaction almost 20 years ago shaped the fate of the rest of the world. In a lot of ways, Peter wasn’t even shocked to hear the things he did. The Tony Stark he got to walk back into the arms of was not the one that existed all those years ago.

The disdain in which Beck talked about Tony made it incredibly apparent that every painful thing his lover did in the process of taking this man down was justified – and absolutely necessary. The mess of bots and illusions he inevitably had to make his way through to stop the slandering plot Beck tried to orchestrate almost got him a couple of times – and when he got to the center of Tower Bridge, he was assaulted with one right after the other.

Getting to where Beck was standing, Peter struck a hand out and caught the gun a moment before it fired. He pulled the EDITH glasses from Beck’s face and cancelled the rest of the bot assault before any more chaos could be thrust upon the city of London. “EDITH – tell Tony that Beck is out. I’m waiting for his signal,” Peter said, his fingers tapping on the frame of the glasses to access the rest of the features. He could see the flashing red dot of FRIDAY’s tracker, Peter’s heart in his throat as Tony got a little closer.

All they needed to do was make sure none of the files and footage Beck put together went viral and the rest of the world was finally free – safe from the manipulation of a mad man for another day, at least. In true Tony form, the man went one step further and exposed Quentin Beck for what he was and all of the parts he played in every step of the craziness over the past couple of years. Not only did he save the world from destruction, Tony saved Peter, too. The couple of encounters Peter let himself get trapped into could have ruined Spider-Man’s image. As per usual, Tony saved that, too.

When the Iron Man suit touched down on Tower Bridge, Peter knew Tony’s secret was a secret no longer – there were helicopters and police cars surrounding the area before Peter could even suggest getting out of the way. Stripping off his mask, Peter took the few steps separating them and wrapped his arms around Tony, who was now completely out in the open, the nanobytes of his suit sitting in the unit that was settled in the middle of his chest. What a better time to reveal himself than when the world got to be reintroduced to the beautiful Tony Stark.

Like Tony imagined, his sudden reappearance shocked everyone – including the rest of the Avenger’s. They didn’t waste any time getting on Tony’s plane and getting the hell out of London. Peter stuck around just long enough to make sure that MJ and Ned were okay after everything that went down. MJ spent an extra minute or two hugging him, her arms tight around him. “I’m so glad you’re okay. That you’re going to be okay,” she whispered softly before pulling away, a tilted smile on her face. That was as much approval as he was going to get from her, so Peter took it, his lips grazing her cheek as he walked past her and into Tony’s arms.

That was the easiest interaction Peter experienced for the better part of 5 days. The second they got back to the compound, Fury and Steve were following as they walked down the stairs of the plane. “What the actual fuck, Stark?” Fury practically screamed, his one eye flaring with a deep look of disdain.

Holding up his hands, Tony smiled, despite the fact that several people were seconds away from ripping him to shreds. “I’ve got a lot of explaining to do. I know that. First, I need to take a shower and eat some greasy pizza. All of your questions will be answered,” Tony said, one of his hands moving to grab Peter’s, the other swiping off his glasses to look both Fury and Steve in the eye. “Nice to see you guys.”

Peter shook his head when a nervous laughter followed them through the doors and into the expanse of the common room – almost the entire space filled with people who were interested in seeing whether Tony Stark was really back. It took them almost an hour to get from one side of the room to the other, Tony firing off the same answer to everyone’s questions – the “I’ll tell you later,” pissing just about everyone off a little bit more than they already were.

When they were finally able to get into their bedroom, Peter ushered Tony into the shower, the warm water both refreshing and loud enough to drawn out the crowd that seemed to be standing right outside their door. The limited amount of time before having to spill all of the details was already winding down. It was only fair – there weren’t many times people made a miraculous comeback from the dead; especially important ones like Tony Stark.

In the 5 minutes that Peter didn’t force himself to be a responsible adult, he stood under the water with his arms wrapped around Tony’s middle, the embrace tight. Peter was still marveling at the fact that Tony was there – that when all was said and done, he didn’t lose absolutely everything. “It’s going to be crazy once we leave this room,” Peter mumbled into the wet skin of Tony’s chest. He peeked up, a soft smile on his face.

“I know. Justifiably so. Then it’ll die down and we’ll get to live life for a little while. Enjoy the spoils of war until the next bully decides they want to pick a fight,” Tony replied, his hands cupping Peter’s cheeks. Since coming back, Peter noticed that Tony did that often – gripped his face and looked at him square in the eye. Through their connection, Tony knew Peter was still waiting for the other shoe to drop.

“I’m not going anywhere, Pete,” Tony promised, his hands gripping Peter a little tighter. “I’m here to stay if the media circus doesn’t take us out.”

For the first couple of days, Peter thought it might. Stepping onto the bridge without his mask on, he never figured so many people would want to talk to the man behind it. Peter Parker and Spider-Man were synonymous now – no matter how much he wanted them to be separate, they weren’t any longer. He managed to dodge, duck, dip, and dive most of the personal questions that dealt with anything outside of himself. Except, of course, the ones about Tony. Those, he was happy to answer.

After telling the story to Fury first, and then any of the national news platforms that would listen, Tony was able to settle back into his role with relative ease. It didn’t take more than a couple moments of thought to know how integral Tony Stark and Iron Man were to the safety of the planet. They were welcomed back with open arms.

The biggest obstacle ended up being all of their friends and colleagues – Tony and Steve kept sharing looks that were a combination of hatred and relief; like the missing link of the team was finally in place and the order was set to right once again. Like Peter’s initial reaction, many of the team felt the slightest bit of betrayal – but after learning about the motives behind his actions, it was hard for anyone to really be mad at Tony or upset with Peter for keeping his discovery from them.

Slowly but surely, Tony found his place on the team again, his brush with death making him a much better person to fight alongside. Peter watched with a feeling of happiness he never knew before as Tony Stark became a beckon for new beginnings and fresh starts – his eyes a new type of wide with the people around him, his heart so much more open to the relationships that were tentatively forming and healing right before his untimely disappearance.

Aside from his growth with Tony, Peter felt himself finally finding a spot in the masses, too. He had a long conversation with Steve about the kind of responsibilities he wanted to have and the checks and balances that Cap wanted to keep in place. Agreeing to them was the easiest thing Peter could have done – after his own dance with death and the grief he knew he existed when the people he loved were hurt, in danger, or gone – Peter was committed to fighting and protecting in any way possible.

He took to the training schedule and patrols with ease, his confidence and faith in himself finally back, finally settling into the core of him and guiding his decisions, instead of the grief that fueled him for so long. On top of Avenger’s business, Peter got himself enrolled in online classes through NYU, his hopes of one day bringing his own bit of importance to Stark Industries and the technology world still fresh, still something he wanted more than anything.

Well, other than Tony. With all of the world satisfied by the resolution of what they were now calling Tony’s “disappearance”, he and Peter were able to enjoy living life together. It was easy to decide that living in the compound full time was not conducive to the things they wanted, the things that made up a bit of normalcy.

When they weren’t running patrols or doing any trainings, Peter and Tony lived in the newly refurbished Stark Tower, the penthouse completely rebuilt with both Tony and Peter in mind. The lab was amazing and the balcony that Peter dreamed about snuggling up to Tony on had the most perfect view of the sunset late in the evening.

Peter’s favorite nights were the ones he drifted off to sleep with the purply hue in his eyes and the warmth of Tony on his chest, the soft touch of his lover waking him up a while later – a wide smile greeting him. For the first few seconds after blinking awake, Peter held his breath, his brain adjusting to the reality around him.

Tony being the first thing he saw upon waking up always seemed like a dream. It wasn’t until chapped lips pressed against his own that Peter knew it was real – his recollection never got the warmth quite right.

There was nothing like the thrum of life pulsing against him – after living without it, Peter would never take it for granted again. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for sticking around, y'all! 
> 
> If you want to join in on my tumblr adventure, I'm ohwereusingourmadeupnames over there. 
> 
> This one was a tough one for me, so let me know what you think! 
> 
> You guys are the best <3


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